But You're My Boss
by thehee
Summary: On the pursuit of becoming a lawyer, Kurosaki Ichigo is suddenly noticed by his brutish boss. He would rather not jeopardize his career, but lust and unluckiness always seemed to rear their ugly heads.
1. How Crude

The sun dipped below the horizon. A pink sky tinted with hints of gold slowly started to fade into deep purples and blues. The once bustling streets crept to a silence with the clumps of people flocking toward their appropriate apartments.

Despite the long-awaited nightfall, Kurosaki Ichigo gathered his thoughts and continued to fiddle his fingers away on the keyboard. His posture was hunched over, a slight ache began to tingle the muscles of his neck.

Rolling his head to produce a soft 'pop,' Ichigo gave a soft groan. Without the possession of a mirror nearby to confirm his assumption, he imagined his eyes had to be bloodshot red with how much time had elapsed. Ichigo's amber eyes had been trained to the computer's screen all day long and his retinas felt strained. Being the son of a doctor, he knew the light emanating off the screen would not be enough to make him blind but it sure hurt like hell.

One hand slipped through orange strands of hair, the male gripped the edge of the desk with his other hand to roll himself away from it— quite effortlessly because of the swivel chair.

No one informed him that being the head assistant to a lawyer would cause the death of his free time. If Ichigo wasn't cooped up in his office at the law firm then he was definitely locked inside of his apartment finishing his work, which should have been finished at the firm but that was wishful thinking. Some days he would happily determine the end of his workload to be approaching fast, but, just as fast, his assumption would quickly be shattered with more work.

Raising his line of sight to the tiled ceiling, Ichigo massaged his temples in hopes of calming the oncoming headache. He muttered a short list of groceries to himself. He was running low on food— fridge as empty as a desert with no sign of water in any direction. Luckily it wasn't as hot as a desert since that would be a pain to repair.

A soft buzz rang out through the room, pulling Ichigo from his chair to fish his cell phone from his discarded pants on the floor. After a long day of work, Ichigo had created a ritual of removing his work clothes haphazardly and then replacing them with sleep clothes before he returned to his desk to finish whatever he had left.

A small look of confusion flashed across his face as he answered the call. "Hello…" he said with a bit of question raising the last syllable.

"Why hello, Ichigo! I hope I am not disturbing you at such an hour." Ichigo flicked his eyes from the wall to his desk. The clock glowed "11:02 PM" in neon red. He began to scowl and tried to piece together where the time had gone. Didn't the sun set not too long ago? Work was taking a toll on his better senses.

"Nah, it's alright. What's up, Szayel?" The two were coworkers but had formed a decent relationship, decent enough to drop the formal honorifics at least.

"We are all quite aware of Grimmjow's patience," the pink-haired male said with an air of playful sarcasm coloring his voice. "He asked me to call and see how the case write-up was coming along. Remember, the press release is this Saturday." He chimed the last statement, words guided by a smile.

With a shake of his head, Ichigo wondered why their boss couldn't have called instead— or even send an email. Jeez, the man was ridiculous. Grimmjow was a straight-forward brute but often liked to play the run around to complicate the simplest of tasks. It was why Ichigo was buried in work twenty-four seven. As Ichigo sat on his bed, his gaze wandered to the screen of his computer placed directly across from his bed on the desk.

"Yeah, it's finished. Just have to edit the rough bits." He hated the designated job of editing. It meant if the document didn't sound clear, formal and prestigious enough then his ass would be on the line. The slightest mistake would send his boss into a tirade of curses and obscene tantrums.

Szayel chuckled knowingly. "Would you like me to edit it?"

Without a second of hesitation, Ichigo gripped the phone tightly and nodded. Szayel wasn't able to see, but he did it anyway. "Yes, yes," he urged through the receiver. "Please." He remembered to add.

"Absolutely, Ichigo. Email me the document and then remember to buy me lunch tomorrow."

"My pleasure," Ichigo said before a laugh. It was a relief to be free of the editing part— especially with this particular case. It had been the talk of Japan for a week now. The case was centered on the murder of a teenage boy in Ikebukuro. There was a money trail left after the murder, which led to a businessman, suspected to be a Yakuza leader and rightfully so. The case resulted in the favor of the defendant, found not guilty. All signs pointed to the businessman, and yet he was sent scot-free without a single smudge on his record. It took the entire nation by storm.

To add more fuel to the fire, the lead defense attorney was none other than Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez— deemed as the nation's "mysterious and exotic-looking" lawyer with a "fiery tongue" by the news. And Grimmjow was pretty damn satisfied. This would be the case which would sky rocket his already lavish career. So, simply put, this case write-up meant everything to the coverage and reputation of the Jaquez &amp; Ruma law firm.

Ichigo was not about to get his head chopped off by a wild man on account of one silly grammar mistake. Szayel could have that duty and Ichigo would smile the whole time he emailed him the write-up. He would continue to smile even after it sent.

**x x x**

Ichigo trudged through the hallway, which led to the office of Grimmjow. His boss had the secretary phone him and request Ichigo's much needed presence. He would bet it was more work since Grimmjow was a sadistic bastard. Grabbing the metal doorknob without a knock, Ichigo passed over the threshold and entered the room with a snarky look on his face.

The blue-haired man had his head cast down, cerulean eyes scanning over a few papers which probably arrived in those manila envelopes underneath his elbow on the desk. Thin lips pursed and then Grimmjow gave an abrupt huff before smacking the papers down. His eyes fell upon Ichigo which caused his frown to grow deeper.

"Take a seat, Kurosaki," he ordered in a gruff tone, motioning to the chair with his chin.

Taking a seat in the leather chair across from Grimmjow, Ichigo quirked his head to the side and observed the man's posture through calculating amber orbs. Grimmjow was always in a bad mood but something was different. The crease between his eyebrows was tighter and his frown lines deeper. His cerulean irises were a few shades darker as well, if that was humanly possible.

"Is it about the report, sir?" He asked with true curiosity. Ichigo would be shocked if the write-up was faulty. Szayel was not one to make errors— ever. The pink-haired man was too much of a perfectionist to allow silly mistakes to infiltrate his radar. It was like he had state-of-the-art technology implanted to replace his mind.

Grimmjow shook his head one time as his hand roughly ran through blue locks of hair, pushing away the strays from his forehead. "Just lost a client on account of a money issue. Who the fuck in their right mind has the audacity to send it in writin' though?" He rolled his eyes angrily. "Fuckin' pick up a phone or email it. This is a fuckin' joke." He stabbed the top of the paper with his finger. There was that fiery tongue the media was boasting about. Grimmjow only spoke with a drawl when he was severely pissed.

"That has to do with me because…" Ichigo questioned the man with a confused stare.

The man finally realized he was taking his anger out on Ichigo and replied with a soft "sorry" before moving onto the real reason Ichigo was there. "It ain't anything bad really." He cleared his throat in an attempt to remove the roughness of his voice. "Actually called you in here for a good reason. I sent your report to Muguruma and he loved it." The blue-haired man placed his hand on the mouse, clicking through a few screens until he landed on the right page. "And I quote, _we will treat him to dinner and I don't want to hear any excuses_, unquote." Grimmjow moved his eyes back to Ichigo's face.

There were no words spilling from Ichigo's mouth. He was quite taken aback and thoroughly proud that he became speechless. Never before had be been invited to dinner with his bosses. His other reports were good but clearly the most recent one came to par with Muguruma Kensei's tastes. Ichigo didn't really care for Grimmjow's approval, but Muguruma was a different story. He respected the man and looked to him as a role-model— a lawyer anyone in the field would aspire to be. He was charismatic and witty and, not to mention, handsome. On a few occasions, he had a temper that could easily match Grimmjow's, but he was so passionate rather than belligerent. Yes, Ichigo wanted to have the reputation and admiration Kensei had as a lawyer one day.

"When are you free? The man ain't taking 'no' for an answer and neither am I." Grimmjow opened a small planner and clicked the pen in his hand to prepare to jot down a date.

Ichigo gave a light 'uhm' and then decided Saturday was the best time for him. "How's Saturday night? I mean the report will be released to the press that morning, it'll give you something more to celebrate." He cracked a small smile and watched Grimmjow add the dinner to his busy schedule.

"Saturday's good, kid." Ichigo glared at the nickname and Grimmjow flashed a smirk. "He said to bring a date if you want. He's bringing one."

"I'm single." Ichigo muttered. Thanks to his job, his social life had died long ago and was buried underneath miles of old, rotting soil. There was no use digging it back up.

Grimmjow laughed with his rough baritone, absentmindedly scratching the corner of his pointed nose. "You're not alone. So that means you'll be my date then?" He wore a shit-eating grin, teeth gleaming and catching light from the window.

Ichigo exasperatedly groaned at the senselessness that was his boss. "No, I'm not going to be your date." With a click of his tongue, Ichigo leant back into the leather and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Don't be like that, Ichigo. I'm a good date. I'll wine and dine ya so then ya won't be able to refuse by the end of the night." The blue-haired man perversely wiggled his eyebrows and sent a wink Ichigo's way. "Guaranteed."

Ichigo scoffed, raising his irritated eyes to the ceiling for a moment and then placing them back on Grimmjow. "One, I'm not going as your date. Two, do I look that easy? I don't put out on the first date or the second and probably not even the third."

The brute man laughed, comically wiping the corners of his eyes as if there were actual tears— and there _weren't_, Ichigo would like to point out. "Aw, Ichigo, you're killing my goal of fucking everything cute here."

"What the- I don't care about some stupid goal," he stammered. "Continue whatever you're doing, but you better scratch me off that list."

Grimmjow sighed dramatically, shoulders slouching a bit for effect. "Unfortunately the list ain't that long. So far I've only slept with that kid at the front desk." Grimmjow's visage scrunched a little trying to remember his name.

"Tesla?" Ichigo asked incuriously. The redhead had no intentions of wanting to know the many conquests of his boss. He lifted from the seat and began his journey back to his office, stopping with his back to the door. He knew not to leave without being dismissed but Grimmjow would understand his position.

Grimmjow had another smirk on his lips, leaning back into his massive leather chair, the swivel creaking to bend with the force. "Yeah, him. Kid's loud as fuck, but a little too needy for my tastes. I like needy, but not without a challenge first. Cat-and-mouse games are more my style."

"Did I ask?" Ichigo's voice was laced with irritation.

"No, but I thought you'd like to know how I go about things," he replied nonchalantly. "Since I will get what I want, Ichigo."

The redhead stiffened by the door, looking at his boss with the most incredulous expression plastered on his features. When the hell did Grimmjow start to notice Ichigo? He had been working at the law firm for a little over a year now and Grimmjow never once bat an eyelash in his direction. Suddenly the brute was acting all kinds of lewd and perverse— suggesting wicked, wicked things and going against the sensible job code of conduct, which states no romantic fraternization.

_I guess rules don't apply to the bosses, huh?_

"Can I go now?" He swallowed a growl but it didn't go unnoticed by Grimmjow. He smiled wildly and, thankfully, nodded his head a few times.

Without another word, Ichigo was out of there in a bolt.

**x x x**

The rush of the water drummed nicely across his skin, leaving not a single surface dry as it glided down his body and drained back into the bath. He ran the soapy cloth over his body as he rubbed thoroughly over the bumps and dips of his toned abdomen. A disheveled electric blue flashed over his vision, disrupting his thoughts.

This wasn't right. He never thought about his boss when he showered. That was wrong on so many levels.

However, the prospect of a good fuck was nice. It meant Ichigo was still sexy as ever, he still had it in him. It had been a really long time since his last fuck and his last fuck was break-up sex. So it was more bittersweet than enjoyable.

Despite how flattered he was, Ichigo wasn't going to sleep with Grimmjow. The blue-haired man may have been attractive. He could admit that…

_Actually_, attractive did not do Grimmjow justice. His body was ripped, well-defined and his suit did nothing to hide that. Some might argue the man was shaped like an Adonis god. Ichigo wouldn't doubt that either. Then there were those unruly blue locks that cupped his face, which gave off this animalistic vibe. It must be nice to just grab those locks and pull, Grimmjow seemed like the type to be into that kind of stuff.

Ichigo could go on defining how ungodly hot this man was, but he ceased his thoughts.

It was his boss. That sounded messy. If it ended badly, which all signs foreshadowed it would, then Ichigo would be out of a job. He may have hated the workload, but he was so close to becoming a lawyer and it was a dream to work underneath such a well-known establishment.

Or, by the gods, if it did turn out to be something good, Ichigo would constantly wonder if any pay raise or promotion was due to sleeping with his boss. He didn't want an unfair advantage. He was raised better than that. He was taught to never cheat and to nobly earn what you desire most. Ichigo would only work his way up the fair way— the_ hard_ way and he didn't need to sleep with anyone to get there.

Switching off the water, shaking his short hair like a mad dog, he stepped out of the tub and wrapped a white towel around his midsection. He swiped his hand over the misty mirror and stared into the reflection. "No giving in," he chanted lowly. He shot himself a curt nod through the foggy glass. "Still hot though," he mumbled with a smirk.

Saturday was simply going to be a dinner for their achievements as a team. It was _not_ a date. It was not the time for Grimmjow to pursue him either. Ichigo would enjoy the time spent with his bosses and then return to his home, alone, with his stomach full and happy.

See, nothing to it! Ichigo was stubborn as a mule so it wouldn't be hard to accomplish this. He could only hope his blue-haired boss played fair and wasn't devious enough to start something. It would be okay if he made suggestive comments, but if he physically backed Ichigo into a corner then that would put a strain on their boss-employee relationship. It would be so awkward, at least for Ichigo.

Feet padding over the tile floor, he exited the bathroom, warm body hit with the chill of the rest of his apartment, as he entered his bedroom. He settled on the bed and dropped the towel to the floor. Normally he wouldn't sleep naked but tonight he was too tired to bother.

_Just gotta wait 'til Saturday_, he mused. The sooner it was over with, the better.

* * *

**The lawyer-employee relationship has been written by Patd06 at AO3, which you can find here: /works/1065353**

**I would like to give her credit for that. **

**For my other stories, I've got my chapters finished, just need to edit them, so no worries there.**

**If you'd like to see more of this, please read and review. Makes a happy writer : - ) **


	2. No Goodnight Kiss

**If you haven't read Patd06's "Your Least Favorite Things" at AO3 you should (/works/1065353). It deserves credit for inspiring my story. And now onwards with the chapter!**

* * *

In a corner office located on the top floor of the giant building, a man sat in front of his desk with his back to the wall-sized window. Looking in from the outside, the people stories below would be unable to see him because of the height and the tint of the glass, but if the man turned around he would be able to see the streets in a crystal clear image. Granted, everything on the ground looked the size of ants.

Grimmjow slid the mouse across its pad to drag a few old documents into the desktop's recycle bin. He clicked through a few of them to double check their useless information and continued his cleaning, periodically emptying the bin.

If he could have it any other way, Grimmjow would have one of his assistants do this tedious crap but that would make him look more of a lazy ass than he already was. The man hated dealing with technology. He was a man of words— demonstrating his position with intricate and grandiose speech was his job after all. He could woo a jury by words alone and that's what got him the big bucks. Unfortunately, the job came with a lot of contracts, reports and other random paperwork.

Oh, the beauty of assistants.

Grimmjow had a handful of those too. He had three main assistants with one head assistant to oversee the other two. Then the head assistant had an assistant and it wouldn't hurt if that assistant had one too. Assistants made the monotonous work go 'round.

However, his head assistant always took the brute of the work and the man was too damn stubborn to ask for help. Some might call this modesty, but Grimmjow called it fucking stupidity. If you had the resource of other assistants under your wing, then use them. They were lackeys whose jobs were to do whatever you ordered anyway.

Whatever, Kurosaki could do what he wanted. That didn't matter to Grimmjow. He would continue to send work his way and not give a flying fuck where it went as long as it got done.

And it always got done— on time too. See, it's clear he needed to continue his collection of assistants.

A slender finger reached over to flick between the creases of Grimmjow's eyebrows. A loud snarl pulled from his lips as cerulean eyes sent daggers at his pink-haired marketing director. _The fairy has some nerve_. Szayel gave a sly smile, flicking a few pink strands of hair over his pointed shoulder. The male clicked his tongue and edged the bridge of his eyeglasses farther up his nose with one finger.

"Did you hear anything I said, Grimmjow?" He chuckled at Grimmjow's look of disdain. No, he hadn't heard. Szayel always waltzed in his office like he owned the place, so Grimmjow eventually learned to tune him out. The blue-haired male grunted with a strong push from his desk. He kicked his legs up on the desk and idly examined his nails— starting with his thumb to his pinky. There was no real reason to do so, Grimmjow was clean and pristine from head to toe, but he was already sick of Szayel's presence so he needed to distract himself.

"Nah, the fuck were ya goin' on about this time?" His asked gruffly.

Yellow orbs rolled promptly as Szayel leant further back into the cushions of the leather armchair. He crossed a long leg over the other, leisurely swaying it back and forth. "Why was I not invited to the dinner? Not to toot my own horn, but I was the one who turned the report into a masterpiece."

"That's not yer job, Szayel," he retorted with a dry tone. Szayel was in charge of _marketing _not _editing_, two different things. Grimmjow pointed at the other. "And ya may have edited, but who wrote it? No one gives credit to the editor instead of the author."

Szayel huffed lightly and whipped his head to the side, pink hair flying with the motion. "If Muguruma-san is taking a date, why can't you take me? I don't even want the credit, I want the luxuries."

A few moments of silence passed, Grimmjow felt the vein in his forehead throb as his eyebrow twitched. He wondered why he ever hired this fairy, what had he been smoking? He didn't even do drugs and somehow Szayel slipped through the cracks to claim a position under the firm. It might also be worth mentioning how Szayel was a childhood friend. Grimmjow lurched forward to press the button on his speaker phone, violently jabbing the thing, the force rattling the device. Szayel began to cackle as he lifted from his seat in a fluid movement— he was quite familiar with this act.

A soft chime played until the other line answered. "How may I help you, Jaegerjaquez-san?" The voice was uninterested. It tried to feign curiosity, but Grimmjow knew the man on the other end didn't give two shits.

"Can ya get this pink fairy the fuck outta my office? I might fuckin' go on rampage and have to defend myself on a case of manslaughter."

"No need to do that," Szayel chimed loud so the receiver could carry his voice. "Already letting myself out, Hisagi-_chan_."

The black-haired male's scoff rang over the speaker. Grimmjow's anger slowly slipped into a feral grin as he watched the marketing director sway out the door without another word. _The fairy looks much better from behind_, he snorted when Szayel sent him a languid wave over a shoulder. The soft click of the lock meeting its hinge was music to his ears.

"Is that all, Jaegerjaquez-san?"

Grimmjow plopped down in his chair again. He whistled while he thought. "Hm, no. I gotta question for ya." The blue-haired man threw his strong arms behind his head to rest on them creating a pillow. Hisagi was friends with Ichigo so maybe he could get the full scoop on him. "What's going on with Ichigo?"

"Ichigo-san?" Hisagi questioned in surprise. He heard Hisagi tap a pen on the surface of a desk. Not in a nervous manner, but more thoughtful, possibly careful. "I have no idea what you mean. What do you want to know?"

"He's really single?"

"Yes, sir."

"He's gay?"

"I don't think he cares." Hisagi became quiet and then cautiously assessed his boss. He had good reason to; Grimmjow only wanted to hear things he liked. "I don't think he dates coworkers."

"I'm not a coworker," Grimmjow chided. An arm moved from the makeshift pillow to leisurely stroke the edge of his desk. His nerves were finally calm and usual demeanor intact.

"You know what I mean, sir. He doesn't date inside of the company."

Grimmjow released a loud snort. No code of conduct would stop him. He eyed the red light on the speaker phone as if it were Hisagi himself. "That's all, Hisagi. You can tell him I'm on hot pursuit."

The black-haired male laughed and managed to reply with a mangled 'yes' before they said their goodbyes and returned to their former tasks.

Hisagi Shuuhei was one of the three main assistants. Grimmjow had Ichigo then Shuuhei and then Mashiro. His group of assistants went in this order: brains, brawns, and persistence (more like endless pestering until the outcome was in her favor). He rarely called on Mashiro for help, though, because the girl was usually busied by Kensei. The white-haired lawyer didn't believe in hoarding assistants but that never stopped him from borrowing Grimmjow's. _Tch, what a guy._

His feet returned to their propped position as cerulean eyes drifted to the ceiling. He allowed his thoughts to swim towards Kurosaki Ichigo. The head assistant was a puzzle. There was nothing straight-forward about him. One moment he was all laughs and witty remarks, very sly and smooth when he wanted to be, and the next he was easily pissed and stubborn, only focusing on work and ignoring the pleasures of life. Maybe Grimmjow had something to do with the latter— he did give the male crazy deadlines to meet and piles of documents to burn through, but Ichigo _did_ have two assistants underneath him to help. There was no reason to be so snappy and tight-assed.

However, it went back to the fact that Ichigo was a giant mystery wrapped in one sexy package.

He intrigued Grimmjow. There was more to the head assistant than a pretty face and a boner-inducing body. He had guts and smarts, drive and passion. Intoxicating qualities if you asked Grimmjow. The lawyer was certain there was more to discover when it came to Ichigo. It only deepened his want to witness what Ichigo turned into when he was in bed.

Was he thorough and slow— the type to drink and indulge in their lover for all they were worth?

Or was he rough and fast— the type to give into hot animalistic passion like it was the last they'd ever get?

Either was good with Grimmjow. If Ichigo was as mysterious as he seemed, he was probably a sweet mixture of the two. Whatever the case, Grimmjow would find out firsthand. There were no qualms about that.

Grimmjow shifted out of his relaxed position and rolled closer to the table. His hand landed on the mouse, ascending it to open a browser and head to his email. He began reading through his new messages. It was time to get to work.

He would have all of Saturday to think about Kurosaki Ichigo.

**x x x**

The blonde male smacked the newspaper in front of Ichigo, jiggling the flimsy paper and motioning to the huge portrait on the front page. "He's freakin' hot, Ichigo!" He pestered in a sing-song tone which turned Ichigo's expression to a sour one. "He's also rich and famous and HOT." He firmly planted the paper on the table and replaced it with his steaming coffee. His thin lips curled around the rim as he took a loud slurp of the liquid. The liquid warmly caressed his throat and filled his awaiting stomach.

Ichigo squinted, scowl plastered on his lips and his head thrown to the side to avoid Shinji's incriminating stare. Those brown eyes followed every movement Ichigo made, flicking back and forth like tennis balls, and it was becoming annoying. Ichigo wasn't some open case to be solved and Shinji wasn't a detective. His friend was never_ this_ irritating but that didn't mean much. Shinji was still, well, Shinji.

Grabbing his own mug, brown liquid sloshing, Ichigo took a long gulp and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Feigning aversion, he looked down at the newspaper, eyes dominated with the image of Grimmjow smirking wildly as he shoved through a crowd of paparazzi. His gaze practically fucked the camera lens in the picture. Ichigo had to admit it was a good shot.

_Masturbation material_, he'd quote Shinji on that one.

"He might be hot, but it goes against everything I stand for," Ichigo commented matter-of-factly.

His friend groaned loudly pulling at thick clumps of blond hair, people occupying the table next to them stole quick glances, annoyance stinging their eyes. Dramatic as usual and he was being really noisy too and, not to mention, this was a quiet café.

"You've gotta god of sex beckonin' ya to his bedroom and all ya do is stick to yer lil'rules." He shook his head in disbelief, long blond hair following. "When was the last time ya got laid? Have ya taken a vow of celibacy or sumthin' behind my back?" He sighed dramatically and waved over the waitress for a refill on his decaf. Shinji couldn't afford to drink regular coffee— he was already a ball of stifling energy to begin with.

Before Ichigo could reply with a witty retort to Shinji— mouth agape to start— a small body suddenly pressed into his side and forced him to slide closer to the wall. He instinctively raised his arms in front of him in a defensive stance. His neck craned and lips frowned looking at the intruder on his side, catching a glimpse of green in his peripheral.

A small, petite light green-haired girl had sat herself at their booth with her skinny legs kicking back and forth without a care in the world. _Like it was normal to interrupt and sit with strangers._ Her elbow landed on the table top, leaning closer to peer at Ichigo. Her pink eyes were alight as a huge grin split her face.

Shinji looked at her with an impressed expression. He loved attention-demanding people because he was one too. He'd add her to the club. Ichigo mentally groaned at the twinkle in Shinji's eyes before returning to the strange girl.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow and curled the corner of his lip in confusion. "Uh-"

"Hiya, I'm Lily!" Her voice pierced the air, high and proud, eager to continue. He wondered if she had recently downed more than a few cups of coffee before ambushing their booth.

Shinji gave her an eager wave across the table.

Ichigo nodded, trying to form a coherent response outside of the confusion. "And you see the guy over there." Her small finger pointed diagonally from their booth. "He's Starrk," she chirped. Their eyes followed her point.

In the corner, a man sat with a book in his hands, finger leisurely skimming over a page. From what Ichigo could see, its subject dealt with economics. He couldn't make out the title but the big money sign on the front was his first indication. The lone man ignored their stares and flipped through the pages. He had shoulder-length, wavy, chocolate brown hair with dark grey eyes. His gaze was unwavering, but somehow a clear manifestation of calmness. His jaw-line was set sharp and steady. His features chiseled. He was quite handsome.

Ichigo waited for her to explain. Without a doubt, the man could capture him in a longer trance so he avoided darting his eyes over there anymore than he had to. Shinji lifted from his seat a bit to get a better look at the man named Starrk. He whistled lowly and fanned his face. "Grade-A hottie." He shot an 'O.K' sign with his fingers to them.

Lily grinned. "He's been stealing looks at this one over here." She poked Ichigo and he rubbed off the gesture with a deep scowl. Shinji pouted— Ichigo got all the good ones. If only Shinji knew how willing Ichigo would be to send them in his direction. "And I couldn't help but overhear your talk, Blondie." She smiled cutely. "You were talking about some guy, so that must mean you're gay, right?" Light green eyelashes batted in wonder at Ichigo.

Ichigo rubbed the side of his face not sure whether or not to answer, how to answer, if it was okay to answer to some girl he barely met. "Sorta-"

"That's more than enough!" She interrupted gleefully. Ichigo bet if he was only slightly curious in men Lily would've rolled with it. She plopped a business card on the table. It read in bold letters 'Coyote Starrk' and the name of some enterprise. Money didn't show character, so Ichigo ignored the name. "It might seem weird I'm the one doing this, but my uncle can be so stubborn sometimes! He's not the type to bother, but I am. You should give him a call. He's a good guy. And…" She poked her bottom lip. "I didn't catch your names."

"Shinji Hirako." The blond saluted with a grin, head tipped forward.

"Kurosaki Ichigo…" He reluctantly replied after Shinji's confident introduction. In his defense, he hadn't fully digested what just happened. He was being picked up by someone's_ niece_. He could confidently say this was a first. Said niece was also turning out to be a lot like Shinji. On occasion Shinji would set Ichigo up on dates without any warning. It seemed Starrk was in that situation now although his face didn't look displeased. It didn't look pleased either. It was a neutral expression that hadn't shot one glance their way.

"Awesome! Blondie and strawberry- got it!" She grinned and hopped out of the booth, standing before it with hands on her hips. "Remember to call, Ichigo."

"Oh, he will." Shinji smirked and waved the girl off. "I'll make sure of it!" He called out to her while Lily cheerfully skipped back to Starrk.

_The hell just happened_— Ichigo seethed in his seat, thoroughly peeved and kind of embarrassed. Most of the patrons at the café were watching. A normal person would gush at the thought of being pursued by two attractive men, but Ichigo didn't have time for this.

Looking across the table, Shinji flashed a grin that would put the Cheshire cat to shame. He stroked the sides of his mug with gentle finesse.

"You can have the card," he grumbled and slid the card to Shinji. The blond immediately received and slipped the card in his wallet. "I have to get back to work, Shin. Don't do anything drastic," he warned in a fierce tone. Probably not the best idea to give the blond Starrk's card but it was better than throwing it away and making no use of the handsome man.

Shinji simply showed him a pretty smile, array of teeth gleaming bright white when Ichigo made his exit.

Ichigo left the café in hopes of a work day without any further annoyances. Tomorrow was Saturday and the thought alone was enough to make him nervous.

**x x x**

The man ran a gel-slickened hand through unruly blue locks. It was a tangle of a mess but never failed to make women weak in the knees on its worse days. He made sure this would be its best. He styled a few locks in the front, head shifting back and forth as he inspected his reflection, hands grabbing at the lapels of his black suit. Large palms smoothed out the wrinkle-free surface for good measure.

He smirked sexily and winked.

He was going to kill tonight— a certain assistant the victim.

The group was going to dine at this new ritzy restaurant named Atarashii. It was an expensive joint, minimalistic in style and concept but screamed excellence. The food was delectable. The fish for the sushi and sashimi tasted like it was barely plucked out of the ocean before it was prepared for you— fresh and juicy, an orgasm for the tongue. The place served to the greatest of the great, which included Muguruma and Jaegerjaquez. They were regulars from the wake of its debut.

He texted Kensei to inform him he was on his way to the restaurant. Grimmjow knew the man would be there first. Kensei had met his date earlier in the day at some hotel. _They probably fucked._ Anyway, the hotel was conveniently placed near Atarashii. The blue-haired lawyer wouldn't be shocked if the couple was already seated at their table.

After a long trip of nonstop traffic, Grimmjow tipped his driver and walked toward the establishment. He didn't have to give his name for the reservation, they knew who he was.

Giving the hostess a dashing grin, he was led to the table. It didn't take much distance to notice the bright orange. Ichigo looked handsome. His orange locks freshly trimmed, dark grey on black pinstripe suit fitted to his form, amber eyes glistening like honey.

_Who's he trying to impress?_ Better not be Kensei. And look at that! Kensei_ was_ there. Everyone had beaten him.

Whatever, he loved to make an entrance.

A wet tongue slipped over his lips as he watched Ichigo his entire stride to the table. Ichigo had noticed. He could _taste_ how stiff the man became. Amber eyes darted, fixating on the menu instead. _Cute_, Grimmjow mused.

He took the open chair next to his assistant, Ichigo shifting a little, and greeted the table.

**x x x**

Ichigo's amber eyes widened as he pointed at the black-haired male. His mouth was agape and he whipped his head back and forth to observe his surroundings. He had to make sure this was correct. "Shuuhei-san!" His voice truly surprised, quickly pulling out his chair across from the couple.

Kensei and Shuuhei sat side by side, a large hand casually petting Shuuhei's hand on top of the table. The black-haired assistant greeted Ichigo with his freehand.

Ichigo sat down with wide curious eyes. He hadn't expected to see his friend as Kensei's date. The male had never mentioned dating Kensei, not that Ichigo could recall. Then again, Shuuhei was the type to keep relationships personal. He didn't like to attract attention to that portion of his life. Now it made total sense since he was dating thee _Muguruma Kensei_. Gossip would tear through the firm as fast as a lit match in a forest if the wrong person got a hold of this information.

"Hey, Ichigo-san." The black-haired male smiled, grey eyes sliding to Kensei.

"Hello, Kurosaki." The man raised his hand from Shuuhei's and pulled the menu closer.

"Hello," he bowed his head slightly as he unconsciously tugged at the collar of his button-up— it felt a bit tight at the moment. Ichigo was caught off-guard and longed to ask so many questions but remained silent.

Eventually the silence was filled with idle chatter. The three spoke of upcoming trials and how successful the press release had been. Media outlets praised the law firm and painted an impressive picture of the winning case.

Shuuhei even explained what the couple had done earlier. Their celebration had started in the morning. The two had got a hotel nearby and checked out various attractions in the area.

Honestly, Ichigo was jealous. The couple looked happy and genuinely seemed to enjoy each other's company. It was refreshing to see love like this but Ichigo wondered when it would be his turn. His previous relationships severely sucked and his future didn't look bright either. _Is it a Kurosaki curse?_ Actually, now that he thought about it, none of his family members were in relationships. His father, no, his sisters, no and no… _Dammit!_

Not a few minutes later, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Eyes watching so openly that it was quite uncomfortable. He lifted his line of sight from the couple to the icy pair staring directly at him. Grimmjow smiled suggestively with a glint in his smolder. Ichigo stiffened and tried to ignore the cerulean stare by diving into the menu. He read off some of the names to Shuuhei who replied with which dishes were good.

Earlier in the day, he mentally prepared himself for this moment but apparently it hadn't worked. Here he was all flustered and antsy. Their employer-employee relationship use to be _normal_— at least normal by their strange standards. Grimmjow loved mocking the crap out of him but that was better than boldly stating his "hot pursuit" on Ichigo.

How had he gotten himself into this mess? Over a damn dinner with no date, that's how. He wished Grimmjow had kept his true intentions a secret. He could have been saved from the feelings of embarrassment and humiliation.

_Stop eye-fucking me, you bastard. _

Grimmjow took the seat next to him. He slightly shifted his chair to the side because he felt it was too close to his blue-haired boss. After the greetings, Shuuhei congratulated Grimmjow and Ichigo on the press release. Ichigo lightly thanked him and Grimmjow arrogantly smiled and gave a shrug.

After ordering their food, the waitress brought them a bottle of fine wine. Kensei popped it open and poured each tall glass a good amount of the bubbly. Ichigo lifted the rim of his glass to his nose to breathe in the sweet smell. The aroma kissed his nostrils, swirling through his body. _Good stuff_, he mused. Alcohol would also ease the knots in his stomach. Win-win.

"To Jaquez &amp; Ruma." Kensei lifted his glass in the air. The others lifted theirs. They repeated the cheer and clinked their glasses together. Ichigo swallowed the smooth liquid and relished in the sweetness. It was finely-aged, thick but smooth, nicely strong down the throat.

In the midst of talking and eating, Grimmjow whipped his chopsticks in Shuuhei's direction. "He ever tell you what his tattoo means?" He offered Ichigo a considerate look.

Tonight was actually going smoothly minus the staring incident. Grimmjow hadn't tried to hit on him or touch him underneath the table— nothing devious at all. He was enjoying the dinner and his boss. It was surprising how the conversations they had up to this point were pleasant and interesting. And the question Grimmjow just posed could be categorized as such.

Without a second thought, he shook his head, patting his lips with the cloth napkin. He caught the blush on Shuuhei's cheeks which was completely uncharacteristic, and rather entertaining. "Okay, now I'm curious."

Kensei grunted under his breath. Grimmjow laughed at the sound. "Kensei's got the same one on his chest."

"What?" Ichigo quickly asked in shock. He had no idea their relationship was _that_ serious. The blue-haired man demonstrated the area on himself, finger on a spot a few inches below his pectorals. Kensei sighed in aggravation and Shuuhei kept quiet.

"How else you think he got a job with that on his face?"

Ichigo assumed Shuuhei's '69' tattoo was overlooked because of his impressive resume. He had graduated from the leading law school in Japan, shadowed a well-known prosecutor and worked abroad for two years. _Apparently for nothing…_ This only meant Shuuhei and Kensei were something more than merely dating, they actually had a serious commitment. More jealousy pooled inside of Ichigo.

"We've been together for three years now," the black-haired man decided to speak. He smiled gently and touched his shoulder with Kensei's. Ichigo noticed it was unintentional. Couples usually formed strange quirks over time that neither person was aware of unless pointed out. Well, this sentiment was coming from Ichigo's own experience.

"That serious, huh?" Ichigo earned a nod from his friend. He returned the smile and continued to eat his food.

Kensei and Shuuhei explained their relationship more with Grimmjow adding his own little tidbits. Who knew people could live double lives and go undetected, Ichigo found it funny. Here he thought Shuuhei was bad at the relationship game too— that they were battling a mighty monster of a struggle together along with their grueling law work.

_That was so very wrong._

Soon enough their meals were finished. Ichigo rested his hands on his stomach happily, stroking over his abdomen with utmost care. His bosses were very generous when it came to celebrating. They had dined like kings.

"We have to be going. We have an early check-out in the morning," Kensei said as Shuuhei stood with him. "Have a goodnight, Kurosaki, and don't sleep in late, Grimm." The blue-haired boss rolled his eyes and said a curt goodbye. Ichigo smiled at the two and waved.

Shifting the watch on his wrist and reading the small ticks, he guessed it was time for him to go too. Time had passed and it had been rather late. Ichigo stood from his chair to make his leave. He froze when a harsh grasp suddenly encircled his wrist, rear back in the chair from a sharp pull, hand reflexively clutching the table which caused his glass to stir. He shot an incredulous look at Grimmjow and tugged his arm away.

"What are you doing?" He angrily ventured, voice low and stern, he didn't want to attract attention so he controlled his volume.

Grimmjow had an indifferent expression; blue eyebrows lazily drawn back. "Let me take ya home."

"I don't think-"

"Like drive ya home. Not to my house. How'd ya get here?"

Ichigo scowled. He arrived by subway, which wasn't pleasant but efficient. The walk had been some ways from the station to the restaurant. It would be a miserable walk but he was a grown Japanese man. If you didn't have a car, you walked to the station or just simply walked. Maybe even biked, but Ichigo wasn't a bike guy. "The subway," he warily answered. "It's alright. My apartment's in the opposite direction."

Grimmjow shrugged. "Doesn't matter, you're takin' the ride, Ichigo." There was that drawl, tone rumbling and deep. Ichigo knew if he continued to refuse then his boss would lash out into some explosive tantrum. Everything inside of him was telling him 'no,' but one tiny voice rang over his instincts. It would be an innocent drive home. Nothing more, nothing less.

Not paying attention, stuck in decision-making, his boss leant closer to hover his lips mere inches from Ichigo's ear. "Haven't I been good, Ichigo?" He purred in a low, rough voice, words as seductive as the wine had tasted— _strong and thick_— breath gently tickling the soft hairs causing goose bumps. Grimmjow tugged on Ichigo's wrist harder and Ichigo tried to conceal a shudder. His ears were too damn sensitive. A flare ignited inside of his stomach. This wasn't good. He was torn between making a run for it and melting into the chair.

"Fine," he grunted. "You can give me a ride, but that's it."

"Oh, I'll give ya a _ride_." Grimmjow smirked and freed Ichigo from his grip. He rubbed his wrist and frowned, eyebrows furrowed. Entering a car with Grimmjow might be bad, but it saved him from further torment. Without another word, they exited out of the restaurant and waited for Grimmjow's driver.

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head a little as a soft breeze swept over them. The wind was carefree and boundless, Ichigo was irritated and a slave to work. Oh, the irony. _Should've been a doctor_, his dad would have died and went straight to heaven at that thought.

The car rolled next to them and Ichigo entered first. He slid to the far end of the backseat and Grimmjow occupied the other side. Ichigo judged the distance was more than enough considering how big the car was.

Clicking his seatbelt, he hoped his night would end once he was dropped off. He really had his fingers crossed his boss wouldn't pull another move like he had in the restaurant.

Ichigo could hold his ground better than a cemented statue, but he didn't want to face any more awkwardness come Monday.

**x x x**

Grimmjow kept an eye on Ichigo from his peripherals. He planted his hand on his own thigh, squeezing the suit-clad flesh. Fuck, his dick was willing and ready for his head assistant.

His cock twitched against tight fabric, blood pooling in his groin.

He wasn't sure what randomly piqued his horniness. Maybe the thoughts of his lips on Ichigo's overly sensitive ears— _who knows_— but he felt the urge to just whip out his cock and jerk off in front of the unknowing assistant. He would relish in the male's reaction and successively corner him. Unconsciously, he released a sharp breath as his hips shifted to try and get comfortable in the seat.

Ichigo seemed to be unfazed, facing the window, staring out at the buildings passing by with a hand cupped under his chin. Did he realize how hard it was for Grimmjow _not_ to jump him during dinner? All night Ichigo had made small gestures like licking his plump pink lips after each sip he took and moaning softly in his throat whenever he tasted something extremely delicious. The damn guy was probably unaware of those sinfully sexy habits too, which made it more infuriating, got Grimmjow's blood boiling because he could easily give Ichigo something just as tasty and licking-lips worthy. It'd be free too. Hard and throbbing. Creamy in the middle.

"Fuck," he hissed. His hand closed in a fist.

The other jumped lightly in his seat not expecting the sudden sound. "You okay?" he asked with genuine concern. Blue eyes met brown.

Grimmjow snickered. He liked the reaction. He liked any reaction than plain avoidance. He shook his head. "Nah, but know how to fix it."

"Want me to roll down the window?" Ichigo placed his finger on the button, ready to open the tinted glass.

Sliding his hand to the inside of his thigh, he kept a seductive stare on Ichigo. Amber irises noticed the movement, flicking down to avoid his lewd stare and track his hand. _Air would do nothing for this hard-on._ Grimmjow tilted his neck back, head lulled to the side, vision encountering Ichigo's quizzical look. Ichigo quickly turned away after the severity of the situation dawned on him and tapped his finger over the button.

"You sure you don't want the window open? It's a little hot in here." He muttered.

A deep groan rumbled inside of Grimmjow's chest. It was hot. _You're hot._ "Open it, Ichigo."

The window came down to let in a gush of cold air. It felt great on the man's hot skin and he watched Ichigo lean his head back. The other was enjoying it too. Grimmjow wondered if Ichigo felt a strain similar to the one in his pants. If he had, he was a master at hiding it because Grimmjow never stopped watching him.

Ichigo put him in a trance. He desperately wanted to ravish the male and lock him away, but there was no fun in an unwilling partner. Grimmjow would pounce when the time was right, similar to a panther stalking its prey— calculating and stealthy, striking once the prey was within reach and would show no signs of running off. It took waiting without much action but would result in a feast fit for the gods.

He willed his erection away, taking a few deep breaths, thinking of unpleasant things like Szayel nagging his ears off— or, _hell_, just Szayel alone could soften this erection. _That did the trick._ If not, the arousal would cloud his mind and better judgments, so it was best to get rid of it altogether.

The car rolled to a stop ending up in some average neighborhood. Lights from the buildings were off and only the streetlights remained. Ichigo unbuckled his seatbelt. Before he opened the door, he turned back to Grimmjow. "Thanks for the ride, sir. I appreciate it a lot. The dinner too." He wore a genuine smile._ Looks so much more attractive than his scowl. _Awkwardness was long forgotten or possibly forced to some other place because Ichigo looked placid.

His body made a move to exit, but Grimmjow took the opportunity to snatch his hand. He felt Ichigo flinch and pull to be free. The grip was too strong for his sorry attempt; Grimmjow silenced a snicker that would kill the mood.

Grimmjow squeezed the soft palm idly wondering if Ichigo put on lotion regularly. The guy's skin was baby soft. He lifted it to his lips. "I know ya won't give me a goodnight kiss, so I'll take this instead." His mouth pressed a chaste kiss on the warm skin, gaze lowering, eyelids half-mast. He felt the male stiffen under his lips— Ichigo was caught totally off-guard.

Amber eyes widened to comical sizes, his supple lips pulled into their trademark scowl.

"What the— ?!" He croaked. His cheeks were red from embarrassment. Grimmjow smirked wildly, corners of his eyes crinkling.

Ichigo freed his arm in a snap when Grimmjow's hold slackened and he scurried out of the car. Grimmjow couldn't even get a good view of his ass while he darted outside, exhaling a sharp breath he must have been holding as soon as he exited.

Ichigo stood before the open door shooting a dubious look at his hand like it was some foreign intruder latched onto his limb and sucking the life out of his very soul. "Uh- goodnight, Jaegerjaquez-san," he mumbled after a long pause. The door shut and Ichigo bolted to his apartment building.

So Grimmjow hadn't _killed_ it tonight, but everything was worth that little performance Ichigo had done.

A slow chuckle passed his lips and soon rolled into a booming laugh. Grimmjow was so damn pleased. To think he was horny out of his mind not too long ago and now he was more amused than he had ever been in his entire life.

No one had been this interesting before, having Grimmjow experience a whirl of sensations, keeping him on his toes and testing his wits. Most people would swoon and melt just by his presence, eagerly slip under his sheets without question and wait for his next command, but Ichigo was different.

Oh, Ichigo was going to be worth the chase.

_Yes, he was._

* * *

**I would like to thank you all for showing lots of support! Please review if you would like me to continue.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Reactions Without Satisfaction

Hurriedly rummaging through his pockets for his keys, shoving the correct one into the keyhole after a few failed attempts, half tripping over the threshold whilst toeing off his shoes in the process, Ichigo slammed the door, wood shaking under the force, and locked the two bolts. Throwing his gaze down without much thought, he shot a fiery glare at his recently kissed hand as it curled around his keys. He could have sworn he still felt the hint of wetness lingering on the attacked skin, he could only guess was Grimmjow's saliva.

Amber hues narrowed more, swirled into tiny dark slits, and his mind was pummeled with a million relentless thoughts. Each one as annoying as the next.

Had the stunt Grimmjow pulled after dinner been excused by the simple kiss-to-hand gesture? No. Dammit, ugh, no. It had _not_, but he was more than taken aback when two soft lips had pressed a kiss on his hand. So stunned, he had even gaped like a fish in front of his boss. Maybe the sight more akin to a deer in the headlights.

The gesture seemed too romantic, too chivalrous to ever be a trick dished out from Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

_What the hell is his deal?_

Nothing made sense to Ichigo, no matter how many times he added it up, he could not figure out Grimmjow's master plan. He knew the man's ultimate goal was to fuck him senseless, but were the tiny cute things necessary? And did Ichigo just think it was cute… Ichigo groaned loudly into his silent apartment.

Usually he would shuffle around to find the light switch but tonight his living room was already finely lit. _Strange_, Ichigo did not remember leaving the apartment with it on but it would not be the first time.

Shrugging off the passing thought, he crossed the room to enter his kitchen and soon filled it with light. _At least this light is off. _

He was not hungry but he pulled open the fridge door with a small _whoosh_ and peered inside the white fortress, eyes precisely landing on the targeted carton. The action was merely comforting in itself, something he would often do since he was a little kid almost like a ritual.

Whenever he was upset, he would scurry down the stairs to the kitchen and grab a glass of milk.

Sometimes his mother would be awake and would happily warm the smooth liquid for him and listen to his childish rants, an epitome of content gracing her face and her warm smile never faltering.

Looking back on it, Ichigo knew it was not about drinking the warm milk or swinging the fridge's door open with as much force as his little arms could, but rather it was about his chances of stumbling upon his mother and being able to vent to her carefully listening ears.

A pang stabbed his gut as he grasped the milk carton and shut the white door. Placing it on the island counter, he turned to one of the cabinets and retrieved a glass for his awaiting liquid. He frowned as something inside of him dared to sting more, hurt him with something parallel to nostalgic pain.

Here, and now, he would not be able to stumble upon his smiling mother in hopes of talking her ears off about Grimmjow and his incredulous, and utterly lecherous, behavior. He would not be able to tell her how his boss openly ogled him at work, carelessly teased him at a sophisticated restaurant, graciously kissed his hand, and every other outrageous act unstated but not forgotten.

All potential rants impossible because she was gone.

And Ichigo was incredibly selfish to think of his mother at this time, her memory deserved better occasions, but he could not help it. He was upset and she use to be his shoulder-to-lean-on, his cure to the seemingly impenetrable anger.

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breathes in an attempt to calm his nerves.

Despite the pain of remembering his mother, he slowly began to feel a familiar sense of relief. As he kissed the opening of the milk carton to the rim of the glass, the pained twists in his stomach began to unravel into loosening threads of ease, body associating this mechanical action with comfort and relaying that message to his brain.

Maybe Ichigo was a complete fool for becoming easily ruffled over one measly kiss. But it wasn't about the kiss, it really wasn't. The kiss just made everything come into full circle.

He realized where this was headed, an inevitable destination so bad, so irritatingly unavoidable that it was like a runaway train without brakes.

It boiled down to the fact that Grimmjow was going to cross the border between a healthy job relationship and an ultimately awkward arrangement. Awkward since Ichigo would have to strike down every advance— each gradually more aggressive than the next he predicted— and somehow maintain a believable façade based on whatever remnant of their old employer-employee relationship that still existed without forcibly hurting the man or nervously fidgeting around him waiting for his next advance.

_Milk will help. It helps. Yeah, it's the best… Ichigo, drink the damn milk!_

One sip was all it took. The milk caressed his insides like a soft blanket while it simultaneously extinguished the angry fire that roared in his belly. An image of his smiling mother flashed behind his eyes mid-sip and that also helped speed the calming process.

Ichigo really did need to work on his temper. He had always been an easily aggravated child thus growing into an easily aggravated young man, even more so now than before.

When he was younger, he did smile more and laugh more but it was never hard for the other kids to push his buttons. And once they were pushed there was no _off _button…

Suddenly his body jumped violently, hand nearly dropping the glass when the sound of foot meeting tile padded behind him. Crap, he really should have looked into the whole light thing when he had entered his apartment. He knew he hadn't left it on! So much for living on gut instinct— slowly turning on his legs almost like one of those exaggerated movie scenes, Ichigo scowled deeply, shoulders tensing, and arms bracing in front of him ready to go on attack. Like hell he would go down against an intruder without a fight!

During that slow motion turn, a piercing laughter filled the kitchen and instantly Ichigo was groaning, reaching back to throw the milk carton at the blonde. White liquid soared throughout the air but it was worth it when the cardboard smacked into Shinji's face, smashing it comically.

Shinji laughed louder after an immediate _ow_ and began to wipe the milk from his face and hair with the bottom of his shirt.

"Why the hell are you here, Shin?" Ichigo barked. He started to gather napkins so Shinji could clean the mess on the floor. Yeah, Ichigo had thrown the milk but his stupid friend had scared the living crap outta him so it was only fair Shinji clean it.

"Check your phone once in awhile, Ich. I sent ya like twenty thousand messages 'bout it. I wanted to come over and hear all the juicy deets." Shinji twirled his finger once and took the napkins with nothing more than a huff.

While his friend cleaned, Ichigo hurriedly pulled out his cell phone from his suit pocket. He had forgotten to check it all night. Then again Ichigo found it disrespectful to busy yourself with your phone when going out with others, especially out to a dinner. Shinji should know how he was by now.

Shinji was not lying about the text messages. Ichigo's inbox displayed over twenty new messages all from Shinji. Most were just of his name over and over, but some had said…

_im coming over! _

Or…

_ive got a key n im here_

And even some said…

_bb dnt b mad if i use ur shwr jst got back frm the gym tbh_

Then there were those suspicious ones like…

_ur not gnna guezz who called me 2day !_

Ichigo smacked his forehead. Shinji was his own breed. And only some could maintain such a rare breed. And clearly this rare breed could not type properly. He groaned loudly just for Shinji to hear from his spot on the floor.

"Ya love me," the blonde snickered as he stood back on his feet. Ichigo watched him swipe his hands together as if he had expelled all his energy on some full day's work.

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo pulled out a stool from his island counter. He took a seat, propping his chin on his hand, and sent Shinji a narrowed look. "So what's up? You said you wanna know the deets, but who called you today?"

"Fetch over the deets and I'll tell ya who the lucky caller was." Shinji pulled out the seat next to him.

"Not much happened, he was tame for the most part." Not entirely a lie. Ichigo just wasn't sure how much he wanted to give Shinji. He shrugged his shoulder to seem indifferent to the recent evening even though he had entered his apartment in a tirade. Luckily Shinji had not seen that.

"Fer the most part?" A blonde eyebrow raised as Shinji leaned in closer to study Ichigo's face as if it were a map of the events.

"You're not going to find anything there!" Ichigo shoved Shinji with his free hand to gain more space between them. "He did kiss my hand after dropping me off but that's nothing."

"Wasn't_ nothing_ to ya, huh? I can read it all over yer face, Ich!"

Not being able to withhold a frown, Ichigo straightened his back to feign some confidence. He did not want to look aggravated or agitated about the kiss. The rational part of his mind knew it was nothing, it had meant nothing to Ichigo. Who knows about Grimmjow, but Ichigo did not care what his boss did. He would deny him each time.

"It was nothing. I left him with a goodbye and that was that. He can keep tryin', he'll just keep gettin' a no." He nodded along with his own words. Ichigo was certain about this. He would not allow some office romance to occur and ruin whatever chance at a good career he had. Shinji gave him a look of displeasure, certainly unsatisfied if his deadpan expression was any type of clue.

"Yer no fun, Ich. Anyway since yer story was hella lame, it's my turn!" Shinji's eyes gleamed with wicked delight. It made Ichigo a tad wary to let his friend continue but he could not lie about his curiosity in regards to the mystery caller. There was no doubt Shinji had the better story since Ichigo was not going to fork over anymore details.

Ichigo widened his eyes a bit, signaling Shinji to continue, showing his interest.

"So while at work," Shinji worked as an escort, as_ regal_ as that was. He use to have a steady job but then relationship drama blew that to shit which was another reason Ichigo would not further his relationship with Grimmjow. His friend had tried dating his own boss long ago which did not end well. It had ended terribly. Did he need anymore reason for his stalemate? "I was out with this real boring gal in 'er early forties, but don't let that fool ya, she's gorgeous. Rich too, out the ass rich, but no personality-"

Ichigo blinked, eyebrows moving closer to furrow and Shinji caught the look. These details were useless just get to the point, Shinji.

"Anyway, back on track- so while at the dinner I feel ma cell go off and guess whose name is on the screen, hmmm?"

"Knowing you, Shin, it could be anybody." The guy was an escort so his cell phone's contact list was over a mile long.

"It's someone tall, dark and handsome. And by dark, I mean twisted." Chestnut-colored eyes glinted over into honey, staring at Ichigo as if he were a destined suspect standing in a police lineup. The blonde had information worth Ichigo's time.

"…"

There was some want to reply to the blonde but Ichigo was at loss of words. Pulling his lips into their trademark scowl, he fixed a sharp glare on Shinji. He did not enjoy the suspenseful nature surrounding their conversation.

"Your ex, Ich. Jeez, I gotta spell out err'thing fer ya." Shinji sighed hopelessly, shoulders slumping as he jabbed the air over Ichigo's chest a few times.

Initially Ichigo would ask which ex but _tall, dark and handsome _had narrowed it down to one person. Ichigo had only dated one man in his life in the sea of forgotten chicks (more like pond) and if dark meant twisted then Ichigo knew exactly who called Shinji.

But that was not surprising. Shinji was still friends with the fucker. He was friends with that guy before he met Ichigo so he couldn't really complain… but that did not stop him from vehemently ranting in his head about it.

"So... don't you guys go out to dinner like every week?" He sounded disinterested and he was. Whatever that guy had to say was not Ichigo's business.

"Him callin' me ain't the big deal, the big deal is the topic of the call. It's about ya, Ich." Shinji gave him a smirk when amber hues stilled for a moment, growing in size. Ichigo didn't like where this was going.

"Oh yeah? What's he want?"

"He wants to see ya, Ich. Even more after I told him ya got a hot date Friday night-"

"Wait! Hold up…! Hot date Friday night… Since _when_?!" And with _who _but Ichigo refrained from adding that, he had a clue who it was. He should've never left that damn card with Shinji.

"Since yesterday! I called that sexy café dude, caught him during his lunch break, we chatted fer a good twenty minutes and now ya got a blind-but-not-so-blind-date on Friday." Shinji clapped his hands together in what looked like accomplishment, like he just won an Olympic medal, like he got the gold.

Ichigo could feel the vein throb in his forehead. He hoped Shinji could see it. Slowly he rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, taking in a sharp breath to try and calm his nerves. He suffered from too much aggravation in one night; it'd be the death of him.

"And you told Sosuke about this date— _which ain't gonna happen mind you_— 'cause why?"

"'Caaaause I thought it'd be cool if I made him jealous fer ya. Yanno, knock 'im off his high horse fer awhile. Ya god damn know he's fumin' around his palace, pacin' with a stupid glare in his eyes at everyone and everything 'cause of ya."

Regrettably, Ichigo had to smile. The smile was small, only a hint of one really, but he could not help it. Shinji was truly awesome. Aizen probably _was_ tossing and turning in his satin sheets, gripping that overly gelled hair tightly as he thought about Ichigo with another man. Which was so hypocritical in Ichigo's opinion because Aizen had happily started to date after their breakup— with one of his good friends too in case he forgot to mention that detail. They were still dating too— _eight happy months. _

"Why's a taken man wanna see me?" He arched an eyebrow as his arms casually crossed over his chest ready to hear more. Said call was turning out more interesting than Ichigo's dinner.

"Ya know him and his ambiguous talk, for _ol' time's sake_ he says and to _discuss recent affairs_ or basically what the pretentious ass means to say is to catch up." The blonde tipped his head back to let out a haughty laugh. Ichigo joined in on the laughter, Aizen was so full of it. Of course, it was a little weird how Shinji blatantly insulted a good friend of his but Shinji had that type of relationship with Aizen.

"He is still seeing Keigo, right?" Ichigo wasn't certain on their relationship status. It had been awhile since he last spoke to Keigo. Way back then, circa eight months ago, Ichigo was more than shocked to hear they were dating. Aizen had even given Keigo an entire makeover, primping and prodding him into his own little trophy wife or whatever the hell Aizen wanted him to be. Yeah, Keigo had ended up looking good, hot even, but Ichigo felt bad. Keigo was so gullible, so easily won over.

_Maybe they are a match made in heaven. _

One guy who is overly possessive and wants to control every aspect of everything and one guy who is willing to be controlled and bend over backwards twenty times for their keeper— yeah, they were definitely match made.

"Yup, still going strong." Shinji snickered looking like he was ready to wipe away unseen tears. The blonde had always found the couple quite odd. Ichigo couldn't blame him, he found it strange too. "I told 'im if he wanted to see ya, he'd have to contact ya. He said he would, so be expectin' a call from him soon."

"Wow, the shit you get me into, Shin. I swear, man, my life would be normal if I didn't have you." And how boring that would be. Ichigo grinned at his friend, lifting off his stool to place his glass in the sink. Without a thought, he turned on the sink and started to clean it, use to having an empty sink now that he lived alone. He liked it that way. "So about that date…" he spoke over the rushing water, gently tipping his head back to carry his voice over to Shinji better, "is there really no way I can get out of it?"

"Nope, none, zilch. Ya gotta go since I double promised him ya would."

"Double promised?" Ichigo asked, faking astonishment. "Damn, can't turn on a double promise," his voice dripping with sarcasm. Finishing the wash, he turned off the sink and grabbed the nearest dish towel to wipe his hands dry.

He walked over to Shinji who looked up at him with a frown offended at the double promise jab. Cocking a hip while fiddling around with the towel in his hands, Ichigo wore a smug expression, lips curled upward and one eyebrow lifted. "What's with you and settin' me up with people?"

"Ya deserve happiness, Ichigo." Well crap, that reply took Shinji absolutely no thought.

"Save the sentimental crap for another day," he lightly joked. He knew Shinji meant what he had said but Ichigo played it off as something less serious.

"Aight, if ya don't want sentimental then 'cause ya need to get laid. Those wrinkles on yer forehead ain't gonna go away unless yer pretty tush is tended to at least three times a week." Shinji held up three fingers to emphasize his point.

After a short huff, Ichigo rolled his eyes and looked away from the blonde. He stopped moving the towel in his hands, not sure how to reply. Usually smart remarks were his forte but right now he couldn't disagree with his friend's statement. He really did need a good lay… Maybe going out with that guy at the café could serve, at the very least, a much needed good round of fucking (or two or three), and hey if it wasn't good then maybe just a quick way to blow his load.

Basically Ichigo just needed to get his rocks off without the help of his hand.

"Earth ta Ichigo, ya in there?" A hand waved in front of his face, for how long was unknown... Long enough to cause some concern in Shinji, so he must have had spent a good amount of time within the confines of his mind.

"I was going to flat out say no… but…" Ichigo tsked quickly, "… I'll do it. For the sake of my libido and nothing more."

"And nothin' less! I like yer thinkin', Ichigo." Shinji grinned wide with that piano-like smile of his, tapping the side of his head.

"Now let's have a sleepover and cry over chick flicks with enough popcorn to drown us in," the blonde boldly stated, leaning forward while thrusting a fist in the air.

"Hm, might have to skip on the popcorn. I got none of that, but I do have ice cream that could potentially drown us if we let it melt." He sent a charming smile Shinji's way; he would give into the blonde's antics for one night. The guy deserved it after all the things he did for Ichigo, no matter how annoying they had appeared at face value.

As they entered the living room to get things set up, Ichigo's thoughts trailed back to his soon-to-be date on Friday. The constant wondering led him to his next question, "hey, Shin, did he tell you what we'd be doing Friday?" It was best to get prepared for it now than worry about it later.

"Oh yea… About that—"

**x x x**

Grimmjow grunted loudly. _Fuck that._ He was not about to pay some chump a large amount of money for this shoddy ass work, so shoddy he could tell where his car's original paint color ended and the new one began. His fist clenched tightly around his phone as he yelled more profanities into the receiver. This guy had some nerve to think Grimmjow wouldn't take his ass to court like he had taken the fucker who had scratched his car that got him into this mess in the first place. _On accident_, the fucker had nearly begged.

Pfft, what would be this guy's excuse then?

After more ferocious threats and then the exchange of attorney information, easy because Grimmjow was his _own _attorney, the blue-haired man started to dial another phone number. Thankfully he had a friend in the car business that could simply get him a new car for a good price. _Thank god for friends in high places. _

A few rings and soon he was connected to that friend. "Starrk! My man, how's it going?" Starrk was a childhood friend of his, like Szayel, who owned one of the biggest car companies in Japan. If anyone could get him a deal on a fine beauty, it would be the Coyote.

"I've been good, Grimmjow. It's been too long," the brunette drawled over the phone. He sounded tired as shit which was not surprising to Grimmjow. The guy was always tired. "We've got to meet up soon. Lily's birthday is on Friday, we're all going out to eat. You are more than welcome to come."

A birthday on Friday? Not bad, he missed Lily too. The little spitfire was always one of his favorite ladies. "Yea, yea, sounds good. Text me the details after we hang up." Grimmjow fiddled around his pocket, finding his keys, pressing the alarm to relock his car because it never hurt to double check. As piece of shit as the car was now with that horrible paint job— Grimmjow still had important stuff stored away in the thing.

Walking down the underground parking lot, shiny black shoes clicking over the tattered cement, the man headed for the elevator and signaled for its arrival. "Anyway, I was calling about a car. My old beast is ready to meet the landfill real soon so I'm scoping the market and who better than to start with you?"

The phone call continued as Grimmjow stepped into the elevator. He had a good number of flights to go before he made it to his floor. Jaquez &amp; Ruma prided itself in its luxury, its prestige so of course they needed a tall ass building to get the point across.

Starrk agreed to meet with Grimmjow about finding him a new car. Apparently he had recently received a new stock of imported cars that were well-anticipated by rich investors and car aficionados, which sounded like it had Grimmjow's name written all over it. Starrk knew him well.

Making it to his floor, that cute little blonde… what was his name… Oh! Yeah, _Tesla _greeted him with a smile and a fresh cup of coffee. Everyone was so damn efficient around here and it was greatly appreciated by Grimmjow.

After a couple more greetings by a few more people littered throughout his route to his office, Grimmjow grabbed the handle with his free hand and pushed through the threshold, hoping to escape a good morning by Szayel. He had yet to see the fairy and was grateful for that. That fairy could eat away his time without even trying, he talked that much.

"Ahhh, fuck, like that… nngh just like that daddy," a hushed voice whispered, baritone deep and seductive, a mop of black hair draped across the desk while something white bobbed up and down wildly between… Wait… The fuck… _Daddy_…?

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Grimmjow yelled as he slammed the door behind him. The sight, the sounds, the familiar voices finally clicked in his mind as Kensei immediately stumbled away from Shuuhei, crashing into the office chair.

Shuuhei yelped in his husky voice and threw his hands over his very erect crotch. His shaky fingers scurried to redo his pants while Kensei gathered his own clothes in the background.

"The fuck are y'all doin' in my fuckin' office?! Dirty bastards! Kensei, ya got a fuckin' office, use it!" He stomped over to the two culprits, slightly sweaty too now that he was much closer to see, and slammed his mug on the desk's surface.

"Jaegerjaquez-san, please lower your voice. Someone might hear—!" Shuuhei pleaded as he finally fixed his clothes something close to suitable.

Kensei was barely pulling on his suit pants over there in the corner, looking away from Grimmjow but he could spot the man's reddening ears. Yeah, be embarrassed!

"That don't answer my damn question," he retorted gruffly and switched positions with Shuuhei, taking stand behind his desk with the black-haired male in front of it.

"Mashiro-san…" Shuuhei started but was soon cut off by Kensei.

"You know how Mashiro is, Grimm. The first place she'd look for us is my office."

"Yea and yanno why? 'Cause that's where ya work and where ya should be fuckin' _workin' _not just _fuckin'_," Grimmjow said in a heated voice, fuming with anger.

Shuuhei swallowed thickly, shifting his weight on his legs nervously, becoming more ashamed by the second, Grimmjow could tell. He was still crossing his hands over his crotch even though he was fully dressed.

Tucking in his shirt rather furiously, Kensei moved into Grimmjow's line of vision. "Yea, I know. Sorry about that, it won't happen again."

"I don't even wanna know how many_ agains_ there's been."

Must have been a lot if Shuuhei's beet red face was any indication.

"I hate to be a cockblock, but get the fuck outta my office," his voice returned to something more teasing than anything else. "I ain't sayin' you can't finish, just not the fuck in here."

Shuuhei sighed in relief as Kensei steered the smaller man out the door. Before the two left, Shuuhei gave Grimmjow a hearty "thank you" and Kensei's snort accompanied his words.

The blue-haired man waved them off entirely, waved the whole thing off entirely actually.

Some might find it gross to find their friends fucking in their very personal space like an office quarters, but Grimmjow wasn't disgusted, no, he was more envious, sickly envious. _He_ should have someone to fuck in here! That should have been Grimmjow going down on someone atop his own desk, that someone preferably Ichigo.

Speaking of Ichigo, Grimmjow hadn't seen him all morning. Granted, he barely walked in about ten minutes ago but usually Ichigo would bombard him with revised documents or nag him about some deadline he forgot to meet that was stated in those documents as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. Whatever the case may be, Ichigo was usually there.

He sat in his chair, lips pulled into a straight line as he gave the phone a calculated glance. Would he call Ichigo's work line? Bother him to come in here at once just to see him red with anger as soon as he realized Grimmjow had no real reason for his requested arrival.

He could do it and normally would do it but today felt different— almost as if he wanted to cut Ichigo some slack. So he would leave Ichigo to his own devices. The male probably wanted to avoid Grimmjow at all costs today anyway. It was a Monday, those were always shitty, and he had made Ichigo look like a fool the last time they saw each other.

Yeah, he would give it time. Ichigo would have to come to him eventually. They did work together.

**x x x**

_A damn birthday party, can you believe that?_

Ichigo stared at his cell phone's screen, practically deadpanned, and read the text message again that Starrk had sent a little over an hour ago. He kept reading it. The damn thing even had dress sizes, shoe sizes, and everything else you would need to know before coming to a birthday party.

Apparently it would be a small get-together at some fancy restaurant (of course) but, nonetheless, it was a party for Lily. The petite green-haired mini-Shinji… And female, that was also an important detail.

How was he supposed to get dick at a little girl's birthday dinner?

Greater things have happened before but Ichigo didn't have the best of luck and, yeah, he could turn on the seduction when he wanted to but the whole setting would be awkward.

And if it was a_ small_ get-together, why was Ichigo invited? Starrk didn't even know him and chose that occasion for their first date… It felt so weird, too personal to finally meet someone and then to meet all their other friends at the same time.

Shinji had said it would be cute and to not blow it. Whatever, Ichigo wasn't gonna blow it and if he did _blow_ something it definitely would be for good reason… He just didn't like the idea of fighting for someone's attention straight out of the get-go. First dates were meant to be quiet, for couples, to learn about one another without any interruptions. If there happened to be interruptions, they weren't intentional.

Regardless, Ichigo would go and try to have a good time. He was determined for a good fuck so enduring one measly birthday party would suffice. If he didn't have a good time, he would pretend to be having a ball just to impress Starrk further into his bedroom. But by the looks of the wink at the end of the text message, Ichigo didn't need to do much more impressing. He could tell the guy desired the same outcome.

"Ichigo-san, here's those documents you requested," a soft voice interrupted his thoughts, the source of the voice then gently knocked on his open door.

Ichigo feigned a smile, quickly putting away his phone as he greeted Tesla to come in. Normally the blonde would stand post at the front desk greeting people, taking calls and setting up appointments but sometimes he would make rounds as a delivery boy.

"Did Zaraki-san ever get back to us on his credit?" Ichigo listlessly flipped through the papers after Tesla handed him the folder. "I know he requested legal advice, but his bank information was no deal. I haven't heard from him all weekend and Grimmjow-san doesn't want to lose a client like that."

"Yes, in fact, his wife called to confirm his bank account number. It turns out he flipped a few numbers. He'll be stopping by on Thursday to speak with Ishida-san," Tesla replied with a smile and shortly after started to bow. "If that is all, I will be on my way, Ichigo-san."

"That's all, thanks, Tes." Ichigo didn't look up from the papers, just continued to read them and made any notes for Grimmjow that were necessary. Grimmjow was capable of reading documents, and he did, but simple requests like these didn't require a full reading from the head of the firm. He just needed anecdotes to get the concept and that's what Ichigo was for, among other things.

Finally it was time to work. Ichigo had worked all morning but felt greatly distracted by his upcoming date on Friday. Reading these documents, he felt in the zone. Not to mention, he hadn't seen Grimmjow thus far, which helped his nerves. He had no idea how he would face the man after his boss had seen him caught like a deer in the headlights.

He could only hope the man did not read the reaction like it were some signal to continue or like he actually had a shot with Ichigo. That wasn't it, far from the truth, Ichigo was merely surprised and nothing more.

_Nothing more, nothing more, nothing more. _

But Grimmjow was hot—

And so was Starrk. So he would focus on that once all of his work was done.

A soft buzzing rattled across his desk which caused Ichigo to lift his eyes off the paperwork and land on his phone. He grabbed the loud device, starting to read the highlighted screen: _Asshole_.

A loud groan escaped his lips as he opened the message, no excitement or curiosity followed the slow movement of his fingers on the touch screen.

_**Asshole:**_

_Ichigo, meet me after work at Ikkaku's_

_I know you get off at 6, I expect you at 7 and not a minute later_

_**Received: One minute ago **_

How sweet, the man_ still_ continuously thought he could control Ichigo's life even after all those months of absolute separation.

_i got things to do after work but i can b there by 8 or so_

_**Sent: One second ago**_

Ichigo would meet with him. He couldn't lie, he was curious to see what the man would do, say, how he would act… But that didn't mean he wouldn't ruffle Aizen's feathers or push back the time just for the hell of it because Ichigo really didn't have things to do after work.

Was it just Ichigo or was his life getting a bit more interesting? He wished for a normal one, a simple one, but a little part of him liked this added spice. It had been a long time, a really long time since he was last showered with such attention.

It felt good to be wanted— it felt good to have all of the power in his own hands. Now he could sort of see Shinji's point. _Maybe_ he could squeeze in a little fun alongside his priorities.

Only the week would tell.

* * *

**How do I apologize for the long wait?! I simply cannot, I have no excuse other than writer's block hit me hard with this story but then finally I got the muse for it again so that was nice. **

**I do have so much in store for this so we'll see what Ichigo stumbles into very, very soon (next chapter soon). **

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing and favoriting and following and all the other sweet support, I appreciate it so much. It really does help me and the writing process.**

**So please review, favorite, follow, whatever you wanna do! **


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